A Letter from the Editors

Mark Danielewski's House of Leaves begins: "this is not for you." Of course, that's not really true is it? In fact, his book, like this journal, is for you. It's been assembled, edited, packaged, and printed because of you! Whoever you are—phantoms of the audience. The birth of the reader comes at the death of the author. That's what Roland Barthes thought anyway. I say the birth of the reader comes at the death of the genre. Does it though? Here's what I mean, maybe you can help me out, does classification matter? At one point, I thought I knew with absolute clarity how to define the various genres. Now, I don't. Maybe I never did. Maybe clarity is the illusion of certainty. I don't know why I'm telling you this. Oh that's right, this is a letter from the editors. Two things can be true at once, I guess, because here's the situation: this isn't for you, and, yet, this is all for you. Enjoy it (or don't). No, seriously though, if you're still reading this—let me just say—we did this all for you and we're pretty excited you're still with us.

—Caleb Nelson

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We seek to understand ourselves and imagine future possibilities. Poems like "The Jellyfish and the Menstrual Cup" by Emmy Newman explores the complexities of our bodies through desiring to be more like the jellyfish, wishing "I could / sting like her / instead of letting another egg sluice out / in my dreams I pack the infintisma / I have scattered in toilets across the world." Farryl Last's poem "sea creature" investigates what it means that "the story starts wanting a body / filled with the worst."

These multifaceted questions of the body are further explored in the creative nonfiction in this issue. Dive into "Metamorphs" by Adriane Tharp and "Sounds of an Imitated Ocean" by Paige Towers to find out what it means to grapple with the past while imagining future possibilities.

We hope that this issue asks you to become more attuned to these array of voices and carries you to another world.

—Su Cho

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As a writer and editor, I have found words are made in the image of their authors. They are complex in nature, contain multiple meanings and connotations. While societies attempt to define words again and again, creative forms continue to challenge any boundaries imposed on them and make words dynamic, alive. Cream City Review seeks to publish such works. Thus, in this issue our readers will find a diversity of voices and experiences that are reflective of our world. Diversity is not unusual, should not be unusual—it has always been there, part of us. Through publication, we strive to have such diversity not only acknowledged but honored. It is an honor to be able to work with editors and readers that bring their vibrant energies into the journal. It is an honor to be able to publish writers and artists from all over the world, their unique voices that inspire and excite.

—Ae Hee Lee